


A Home We Made

by hiddenbookshop



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Feelings Realization, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:35:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29875026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenbookshop/pseuds/hiddenbookshop
Summary: Eddie realizes that he doesn't have to look far to find home.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 122





	A Home We Made

“Can we take this home?” Buck sounds so excited, as he turns to where Eddie’s standing next to him in the booth. He holds up a large clay bowl, grinning happily and not realizing that he's just turned Eddie's heart to mush inside his chest. 

Home. 

He'd said home, as in the Diaz house- where Bucks shoes sat by the door next to Eddies and some of his clothes hung in the closet, next to Eddies. Where he had helped Christopher with his homework on the couch the night before, thigh pressed tight against Eddies. Where he had cooked breakfast for the three of them this morning, chair pulled up close.  _ Next to Eddies. _

Buck had steadily become a fixture in the Diaz home and the older man wouldn't have it any other way. He’d fantasized many a night about waking up next to Buck. How his sleepy smile would look pressed against his pillows. How it would taste. When Eddie looked at Buck, he knew that old saying was true, home is not a place, it’s a person. 

The older man cleared his throat before answering. “If that's what you want.” 

He’s proud that his voice only cracks a little and he does not blush when Buck’s smile turns soft where it's aimed at him. 

“It’s what i want.” The blonde replies sweetly. 

And if maybe their words hold more meaning, a metaphorical cliffs edge they had been working towards for years, well that's their business. And not the smirking sales lady who takes Eddie’s card when he bodily presses himself playfully in front of Buck before he can pay. The other man pressing his genuine laughter into Eddie's shoulder, hands wrapping around his waist as he signs the receipt. 

“Finished ?” he says, stepping out into the cool breeze of the market, Buck nods, sliding their hands together as they walk, smiling shyly at his best friend. Eddie gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, 

“Let's go home.” 

Home where the bowl will end up by the door, catching Buck’s keys when he tosses them in after shift, next to Eddie’s. Where a year from now his name badge will go, newly printed and shiny, Bucks last name proudly hyphenated, next to Eddies.


End file.
